Broken

It was dinner time, and in our house that means chaos. The baby girls were at my feet as I worked in the kitchen, pulling on my legs, emptying drawers, and angry when I moved them away from the hot oven. The boys had all the couch cushions on the floor. Their fort destroyed in exchange for a make-shift trampoline/mosh pit/leaning tower of Pisa.

"Boys, you better knock it off or some one's gonna get hurt!" I yelled from the kitchen.

Then I heard it. A thud that means trouble. A cry that had never escaped his lips before. There on the floor was my baby boy cradling his arm, lips white, and face full of pain.

It took less than 2 minutes to make arrangements for the other 4 kids and get out the door. We were in the ER waiting room within 5 minutes and on a gurney receiving treatment in 15 minutes.

X-rays were excruciating and showed us what we already knew. Eric's arm was broken, both bones snapped.


Don't look at these if your stomach is squeamish. Remember, I warned you.

this is what his arm looked like when I scooped him up off the floor

a close up

miserable and doped-up on morphine

We find out Monday morning if they can set it in the office or if it will need surgery.

Eric said he would never jump off the arm rest of the couch and onto a stack of four cushions again. He did mention that three cushions would probably be ok...